To Seduce a Froggie
by SushiBomb
Summary: In which Fran is completely oblivious to Belphegor's feelings, Lussuria teaches Belphegor how to earn Fran's affections, and Bel just can't seem to stop screwing up. Crackish. Now a four-shot  shut up . B26 pairing. Written for Frapple's b-day! Enjoy!
1. Wooing the Froggie

A/N: Hey guys!

New story for my friend Aya, A.K.A. frapple's birthday. She is the reigning queen of all things B26, so this is dedicated to her! Happy belated birthday!

This is a two-shot, since it was getting kinda long. The second part'll be up in a few days, most likely. Please enjoy my fail attempts at writing legit B26 OTL

Side note: I'm working on Chapter nine for _The Little Things that Make Them Human_ still. Sorry, I got a bit side-tracked, as I tend to do, but it's coming!

Warnings: Language, and general Varia shenanigans, boy/boy pairing, but nothing major.

Disclaimer: Sushi*Bomb does not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.

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><p>To Seduce a Froggie<p>

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><p>"Hey Lussuria?"<p>

Lussuria turned from the counter where he was chopping scallions for dinner that night at the unfamiliarly embarrassed-sounding voice behind him. To his surprise, he found Belphegor standing in the doorway of the kitchen, arms loosely folded across his chest and a small pout in place of his usual Cheshire cat grin.

Lussuria was immediately concerned.

Belphegor did many things, but if there was one thing Lussuria was certain of, Belphegor _didn't_ do embarrassed. Or awkward, for that matter. But that was exactly how the resident prince of the Varia looked as he took a seat at the island.

"Yes, is something wrong dear?" Lussuria asked as he set his knife down and walked over to sit in front of Belphegor, who seemed unable to look up from the swirls of black and gray in the marble of the island counter. The prince traced one of the more intricate swirls with his finger for a while, sighing in frustration when the pattern ended at the edge of the counter.

"You know about like…_love_ and shit, right?" Belphegor blurted out suddenly. Lussuria smiled at the younger man encouragingly, holding back a giggle that would've earned him a knife in the forehead courtesy of Prince the Ripper had it escaped.

But goodness, Belphegor was just so adorable when he looked uncomfortable about something.

"I suppose so, Bel. Why?" Lussuria said with a smile.

Belphegor looked like he was seriously debating whether to say something or not; the mental battle played over the prince's face in such a flurry that Lussuria was almost nervous to hear what the prince had to say.

After a few minutes, Belphegor signed to himself with a sort of grim determination and looked up from the counter.

"You can't tell anyone what I'm about to tell you, okay?"

Lussuria nodded.

"I mean anyone." Belphegor said seriously.

Lussuria nodded again. "Yes Bel, I won't say a word."

"If I find out you said anything, I'll shave off your Mohawk when you sleep." The prince threatened.

"Good heavens Belphegor! Are you going to tell me or not~!" Lussuria shouted, his hands immediately gravitating to his hair protectively. Belphegor sat back down, looking a bit more sure of himself.

"Well…I've been having dreams."

"Dreams?" Lussuria repeated curiously. Belphegor nodded. "Yeah."

"What kind of dreams?"

At that moment, a peculiar shade of red tinted the visible part of Bel's cheeks. "…You know…" he started, his face growing redder with each passing second, "_dreams_."

Lussuria smiled coyly. "You mean, _sexy _dreams?"

Belphegor made an oddly strangled noise as he pointedly looked away, staring at anything and everything but Lussuria's face.

"About what?"

Belphegor scratched at his cheek. "Not _what_…more like…_who_." The prince said quietly. Lussuria leaned forward, interest officially piqued.

"Who?"

Belphegor laughed awkwardly, feeling around on the counter for something to occupy his hands.

"I, uh…you know, no one, really…just…Fran…"

"You've been having wet dreams about Fran? Oh how lascivious of you Belphegor~!" Lussuria shrieked theatrically, his perfectly manicured hands flying to his face giddily.

Within three seconds, a familiar blade was pressed against the back of his neck.

"Okay, okay," Lussuria began hurriedly, sighing in relief when the blade moved away from his skin, "I'll be serious! I promise!"

Belphegor growled in annoyance but relented, and the blade was gone. The prince walked back around to his seat, looking remarkably like a man who had just lost his job or something equally tragic as he sat back with his arms once again folded across his chest, a rather childish pout adorning the visible half of his face.

"Okay, so tell me about these dreams you've been having." Lussuria said, trying to be as serious as he could, for not only Belphegor's sake, but for the sake of his precious Mohawk.

"Well," the prince started as he shifted apprehensively, "It always starts the same. Like, I'll be in my room, or watching TV or something, and Fran'll walk in."

"And?"

"And he's usually wearing something really slutty. Like the other night. In my dream, he came into my room with only the coat of his uniform on…and nothing underneath. And he said, 'I've been a bad little froggy, Bel-sempai…'"

Lussuria leaned forward even more. "And _then_?"

Belphegor smiled lewdly. "Well…let's just say Fran's not as innocent as he looks, if you get my drift."

Lussuria fanned himself giddily. "Oh how steamy~!"

Belphegor cleared his throat awkwardly as he leaned forward on the counter. "Yeah, well anyway. Dreams are one thing, but that's not all anymore."

"There's more?"

The prince nodded solemnly. "Yeah. Lately, I can't…I just can't stop thinking about him. Fran, I mean."

"Really?" Lussuria said, mildly shocked.

"It's weird, Luss. And I can't stand it. Whenever he's around, I get really anxious for some reason. My stomach starts to hurt. And then this morning…"

"What about this morning?"

"I couldn't stop staring at him. Like, no matter what I do, my eyes just kind of gravitate to him, and before I even realize it, I've been staring at him for five minutes. It's always like this now. I don't know what to do anymore, and it's pissing me off. "

Lussuria smiled knowingly at the blonde prince, chuckling good-naturedly in spite of the deepening frown on Bel's face. "It sounds to me like you have a little crush on Fran."

Belphegor shook his head in denial. "What? No. No, no, no. That can't be possible."

"Well, why not?"

"Come on, Luss. It's Fran. _Fran_."

"So?"

"Lussuria. He watches the Discovery Channel. Because he _enjoys_ it. And don't even get me started on his weird pudding fetish. Oh, and did you know he reads the dictionary? Just because he feels like it?"

"_So_?"

"What the hell do you mean, 'So'? Don't you get it? Who fucking reads the dictionary for fun, Lussuria? No one! Only psychopaths do things like that!" Bel nearly screeched.

Lussuria snorted into his hand. "Psychopaths, hmm?"

"I- …shut up." Belphegor said affrontedly. "The point is, I can't have the hots for Fran. I just can't. He's a fucking dork!"

"A dork that you dreamt about screwing last night."

"Yeah…hey. Hey!" Belphegor snapped again, his knives sliding down from somewhere up his sleeves.

"Bel…?" Lussuria said with a cryptic little smile, and all at once, the knives once again disappeared up Belphegor's sleeves and the prince sat back down in a huff.

"Okay. Fine. Maybe, I kinda sorta have a little thing for him. Maybe. Possibly. But it's not like it matters or anything…" He trailed off dejectedly.

"Why's that, Bel?" Lussuria asked with a curious frown. Belphegor sighed into his hands.

"Well, I don't know if you've noticed, but Fran isn't exactly very…_anything,_ towards me. Except snarky, anyway. It's not like I can just tell him that I like him out of the blue or something. That'd be too weird." The prince said with a deep scowl.

"Well Belphegor, if you want Fran to like you, you should start small, and work your way up!"

Belphegor looked at him oddly. "Huh?"

"You know, baby steps. Start with little things."

"Like?"

"Stop threatening to kill him on a daily basis, for one. I'm sure he'd appreciate that."

Belphegor stared at him blankly. Lussuria sighed glumly.

"…_Okay_…we'll start smaller."

At that moment, who other than Fran, the very topic of their discussion, wandered into the kitchen, for once not wearing his uniform, but a plain, black long-sleeved shirt and jeans. The mist guardian made a bee-line for the refrigerator, not even sparing a glance at his two comrades sitting at the island, and he certainly didn't notice how intently Belphegor was staring at his ass as he bent over to look for something in the refrigerator.

"Bel! This is your chance! Say something nice!" Lussuria whispered heatedly to the prince. Belphegor snapped out of his daze and shook his head. "Like what?" He whispered back, just low enough for Fran not to hear him.

"Anything! Just make an observation and comment on it. Make him feel good about himself!" Lussuria said quietly before turning to the youngest member of the team, who was still rummaging about in the refrigerator, humming a little tune to himself.

"Hey, Fran~! Bel wants to tell you something!" Lussuria said cheerfully, pointedly ignoring the seething glare being sent his way via a certain blonde prince. Fran closed the refrigerator and wandered over to the pair, peeling the lid off of his pudding as he did so.

"Yeah? What is it, sempai?" The younge mist guardian began nonchalantly.

But Belphegor was unable to form a coherent sentence. Not because the sight of Fran standing there looking spectacularly bored in front of him was enough to send him into panic, but because…

"Bel?" He heard Lussuria's voice, somewhere in the distance…but at that moment, the only thing Belphegor could focus on was the way Fran's tongue curled back into his mouth before poking back out to lick the excess pudding from the lid.

"…I…"He began, still watching the pink muscle intently, certain scenes from a certain dirty dream swirling about in his head.

The young illusionist was still staring at him, waiting patiently to hear what the prince had to say. And still lapping away at that goddamned lid.

_How much fucking pudding is on that damn thing?_ Belphegor shrieked in his head, sizing up his reluctant sidekick, looking for something to comment on.

Behind Fran, Lussuria was giving him a chipper thumbs up, mouthing the words 'baby steps' like it would somehow become Bel's personal mantra if he said it enough times.

"Um…if you're done being comatose, I kinda have some stuff to do." Fran said flatly, as he -thankfully- finished with the lid. The illusionist fished a spoon out of random drawer, and began eating his pudding, still waiting, albeit less patiently than before.

The kitchen was silent for a while.

"You…you don't look fat in those clothes." Belphegor finally said after nearly a minute, looking quite satisfied with the astuteness of his observation.

That satisfaction immediately vanished however when he saw Lussuria smack his forehead, sighing to himself.

Fran gave him a blank, if not slightly put-off, look as he took another bite of his pudding.

"That is _such_ a relief. You know, because normally I can't contain all one-hundred and fifteen pounds of my morbid obesity in that unflattering uniform. I'm amazed that no one has to roll me anywhere yet." Fran quipped sarcastically as he turned and walked out of the kitchen, the flat 'moron' floating its way into the kitchen before the illusionist disappeared up the stairs.

"Bel!" Lussuria snapped exasperatedly. The prince raised his arms defensively.

"What?"

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><p>"Okay, so the first try didn't go so well, but that's alright. Things like this take finesse." Lussuria said encouragingly. Belphegor stared at him oddly.<p>

"_Finesse_?"

"Yes. Finesse."

Belphegor made a face like he tasted something bitter.

"That sounds kind of unpleasant." The prince quipped, earning a light smack on the arm from his comrade-turned-love-coach.

"Do you want your dreams about Fran to become reality one day or not?"

Belphegor's mouth snapped shut as the prince nodded fervently.

Lussuria nodded determinedly. "Then you must learn the art of courting your prospective mate. You have to woo him~! Now think. What do you usually do when Fran's around?"

"Try not to think about fucking him."The prince said bluntly. Lussuria smacked his forehead. "That's not what I meant. I mean, how do you usually interact with him?"

Belphegor pursed his lips in thought for a moment. "I stab him, threaten him, and demean him." The prince said with a small, disturbingly pleased smile.

"Alright. Now to get Fran to like you, you have to _not_ do any of those things anymore."

The smile disappeared. "What!" Belphegor screeched, "But that's like the highlight of my day!"

"…Do you want Fran going down on you to be the highlight of your _night_?" Lussuria asked a bit too seriously for such a blatantly perverted question, arms folded across his chest.

Belphegor's shoulders slumped.

"…Yes…" He whimpered, pouting like a little boy.

"Then, no more stabbing, no more abuse, and no more psychological torture. Am I clear?"

The prince sighed in resignation, nodding slowly.

"Good. Look! There's Fran now!" Lussuria said quietly as he pointed to the courtyard, to where the young illusionist was sitting, reading a light novel.

"First Lesson: Make it seem like you're interested the things he likes. Ask him about his book, start up a conversation. If you can find a common interest, he'll be much more receptive to your advances, because you'll have a rapport with him already." Lussuria said knowingly. Belphegor looked at him glumly. "But I hate reading."

"Well," Lussuria began as he shoved Belphegor out in the open,"now you don't."

At that same moment, Fran looked up from his book to rest his eyes for a second, his face immediately dimming a bit when he saw Belphegor walking in his direction. Within seconds, the prince was standing directly in front of him, looking awkward, irritated, and a bit constipated all at once.

Fran sighed as he closed his book. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" He droned, his green eyes eyeing the older assassin suspiciously.

Belphegor cleared his throat. "The prince was bored, so I figured I'd see what you were doing."

Fran continued to regard him tentatively. "Why?"

Belphegor folded his arms across his chest haughtily. "Because…there's no one else home to bother, so you were my last choice."

"But I literally just saw the long-haired commander a minute ago. He was walking with Levi-san to Boss's office. Are you going blind or something, fallen-prince?"

It was all Belphegor could do to keep from growling and stabbing the younger man right in the head.

_Patience Bel. He'll be much more friendly after he falls in love with you. _Belphegor said to himself mentally, forcing himself to calm down.

"What're you reading?" He asked, pointedly changing the subject. If Fran noticed the prince's suspiciously avoidant attitude, he didn't say anything. The illusionist held the book up for Belphegor to see.

"_The Giant Collection of Lame Jokes_…?" Belphegor read the title aloud.

"Yeah, isn't it great? I was reading it today in the checkout line at the store. So in the end, I just decided to buy it." Fran said as he flipped back through to the page he was on before.

"Are there…any …good ones?" Belphegor asked, fidgeting a bit. Fran looked at him curiously before shrugging and nodding.

"Yeah, listen to this one. What do you call a sleepwalking nun?"

After a few seconds, Belphegor shrugged. "I dunno, what?"

"A _roamin'_ Catholic."

Silence.

Fran looked up at him expectantly. "Get it? A Roman Catholic? Roman? Roamin'? Like, she wanders around, and she's Catholic…?"

Belphegor smiled awkwardly. _That was the stupidest joke I've ever heard in my life_. He thought with a grimace. But at the sight of the almost present glow in Fran's eyes fade away at his apparent lack of interest, Belphegor began to panic.

_No! No, no, no! It was funny Bel. It was funny. Laugh. _He berated himself mentally. _Laugh goddammit or he'll hate you forever!_

"Ushishi~!" Belphegor forced a chuckle out, feeling his panic come down when Fran perked up a bit. "That was pretty lame, froggie." He said with a grin.

Fran nodded as he stood up and stretched. "Yeah, that's kinda the point, sempai. Anyway, we have a surveillance mission tomorrow, don't we?"

Belphegor nodded. "Yup."_ Wait. Say something else. Come on Prince Belphegor, baby steps. Drop hints!_

"I'm looking forward to it." He said as casually as he could, mentally patting himself on the back for being so smooth.

Fran gave him a curious look. "How come?"

Belphegor started for a moment. "How come what?"

"Why are you looking forward to it? There won't be any bloodshed involved, you know. You 've read the mission briefing, haven't you?" Fran said as he stared at Belphegor oddly.

_Shit! He's right! The only time I ever look forward to anything is when I know I'm gonna get to kill someone. Why am I looking forward to it? _Belphegor thought in a panic. _Come on Mr. Genius prince, think of a good reason, think of a good reason, think of a goo-_

"Because watching people excites me." He blurted out, immediately regretting opening his mouth.

_Great. Now he's gonna think I'm some kind of weird pervert. Well, not that that's completely untrue, but still. I don't him thinking that about me. Aw damn it._ The prince griped in his mind.

As expected, Fran blinked at the prince's response silently for a few seconds before looking up at the older man. "Well, as long as you don't pop one while we're monitoring a fat, ugly politician, I think I can forget that you ever said that in public. Deal?"

Belphegor, no longer trusting himself to speak, simply nodded with his usual grin, in an attempt to keep some of his almost non-existent dignity.

Fran gave him a quiet 'alright then' before sighing to himself and walking away.

Once he was out of sight, Belphegor smacked his forehead.

_Damn. Looks like I am definitely back to square one._

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><p>Poor Bel! Will he ever get it together?<p>

I hope that was a decent attempt at B26. Sincerely, I hope it. Next part will be up soon! Read and review if you enjoyed it!


	2. Riding in cars with Froggies

A/N: Hey guys lol I'm back. Sorry that I took so long to update this, I had part of it done…and then, well…I just kinda sorta forgot to finish it. Um…yeah.

But feel free to smack me because goddamn this is a three-shot now. But that's it! I MEAN IT!

Anyway, enjoy!

Warnings: Language, suggestive content, and the Varia boys being their usual wonderfully sterling selves.

Disclaimer: SushiBomb does not own KHR. Weh Weh Weh.

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><p>Riding in cars with Froggies<p>

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><p>In the twenty odd years Lussuria had been acquainted with the infamous Prince the Ripper, he couldn't recall one time he had ever seen the younger assassin look anxious about anything, and he had certainly never seen him…<p>

"I can't do it, Luss. I just can't."

…pacing around his bedroom like a man waiting for his wife to give birth. Lussuria was sure that if Belphegor paced any faster, he would undoubtedly wear a path in the carpet of his room.

"Bel, just breathe, dear. It's only nerves, afterall." Lussuria said with a soft, matronly smile. He received a bitter scowl in response.

"Che, easy for you to say," Bel began as he folded his arms across his chest petulantly, "you're not the one who's gonna be cooped up in a car with Fran for three hours."

"But honey, this is your chance to spend some time with him. Remember what we talked about yesterday? Part of the problem is that you don't Fran well enough yet. You need to spend time with him, and get to know him better. The same goes for him. He only knows you as 'the guy who smiles too much and stabs me for no reason'-"

"-I don't stab him for 'no reason'!" Bel interjected. Lussuria frowned.

"…okay maybe sometimes…"

"More like _all_ the time, dear." Lussuria corrected, which earned him a dirty sock in the face. Bel groaned to himself as he flopped facedown onto his bed next to Lussuria.

"It's going to go awful, I just know it. Every time I try to talk to Fran, I always end up making an ass of myself."

"Aww, honey," Lussuria cooed as he rubbed Belphegor's back in an attempt to comfort him, but it seemed more like he was gradually working his way down to cop a feel on the prince's delightfully pert backside, "it'll get easier the more the you do it. Besides, you were doing just fine this morning."

At that, Belphegor raised his head off of one of his pillows to stare (and possibly glare) at Lussuria.

"Are you on drugs or something? Because screaming and running out of the room with a half-erection after Fran asked me to 'butter his muffin' hardly qualifies as 'doing fine'!"

"Well, up until _then_ you were doing alright." Lussuria said glumly.

"But you're kind of missing the point, Luss." Bel said as he laid his head back down. "That's exactly why I can't go with Fran later. Being in the same house is one thing, because at least I can make a quick getaway if I need to. But I'm going to be alone with him. In a car. For at least three hours."

"So?"

"Ugh! Lussuria, come on man!" Belphegor snapped wildly as he shot up from the bed in a huff, quickly resuming his frantic pacing.

"What the fuck do you mean, 'So'? Have you ever sat down and had a conversation with him, Lussuria? Have you? I don't think you have." The prince shrieked, waving his arms around like a madman, "Fran is really fuckin' oblivious. He says shit like that all the time! It never once crosses his mind that _maybe_ what he's saying is kind of suggestive!"

Lussuria chuckled. "Yes I know, Fran _can_ have a rather loose tongue at times, but still. It's good for you that you can't run away as soon as you get nervous."

Belphegor stopped pacing, and turned to stare at the older man sitting on his bed. "Oh, it's not nerves I'm worried about. I'm more concerned that if he says something vaguely suggestive, I'm going to start daydreaming. And you know my daydreams are anything but innocent."

"Yep, that is definitely true."

"Well, what if I get hard or something? Fran will never let me live it down! He already thinks I'm some kind of sick pervert."

Lussuria ran a hand down his face. "To be honest, I don't really have an answer for you, Bel. You just have to keep calm and focus on the mission, and more importantly, focus on getting to know Fran better. You have been given a rare opportunity, afterall. If you're going to be forced to be alone with him, you should try to make the most of it. And if Fran says anything that, eh… _sets_ you off, just think about something else."

Belphegor laid back down, and Lussuria resumed his impromptu back-rub. After a few minutes, the prince wriggled closer, stretching out languidly against Lussuria's pleasantly skilled hands.

"Neither of us is very good at holding conversations, Luss." He said quietly. Lussuria smiled down at the prince.

"Well Bel, that's a skill you are just going to have to improve and polish over time."

Belphegor nodded tiredly, again grabbing his favorite pillow and nestling his head against it. "I guess so." He said, eyes gradually sliding shut as Lussuria's hands slid lower and lower down his back.

"Is this helping?" Lussuria whispered seductively as one hand crept past the prince's belt buckle and onto one of the firm globes. Belphegor made a muffled noise.

"…Am I interrupting something?" A familiarly monotone voice asked from the doorway unexpectedly. Belphegor sprang up from the bed as if he had suddenly realized he was laying on a bed of hot coals, eyes wild under his mop of hair.

"No! It's not what it looks like! My back was hurting!" He screeched frantically, an unfortunately-timed blush creeping onto his face.

Fran gave him a skeptical look. "Was your ass hurting too, sempai? Because Lussu-nee-san was massaging _that_ pretty intently." He quipped sarcastically as he produced the folder that was previously tucked in the crook of his arm, casually flicking to a page inside.

Belphegor whirled on Lussuria with a snarl not unlike a tiger about to strike. "You goddamn pervert! What the hell were you rubbing my butt for?" He screamed.

Lussuria fanned himself giddily. "Oh, Bel darling, you know I couldn't help myself~! Your perky little bum was just calling to me~!Ohoho~!"

Belphegor made a strangled noise. "Y-you-you took advantage of me! I thought you were trying to help me!"

"I was! You were so tense, dear! That massage did you good! You know I didn't mean any harm~!"

"You massaging my _ass_ is not helpful in any goddamn way!"

"Oh, that was just me giving into temptation~!"

"!"

As the two assassins squabbled about Lussuria's questionable intentions, Fran watched the scene with blatant disinterest, a finger casually poking around in one of his nostrils boredly. He was certain that a bug had flown up his nose when he was outside earlier, and it was really starting to bother him.

"You're the one who doesn't know how to talk to people without freaking out and running away!"

"Well, well, - YOU'RE A CREEPY, CORPSE-FUCKING PERVERT!"

Fran plucked his finger from his nose. "Oh…that doesn't look like a bug at all…" He said to himself sullenly before nonchalantly wiping his finger on Belphegor's dresser. "I wonder how long it'll take him to notice that,"He mumbled as an afterthought.

"Hmmph, well at least I don't need see my own blood to get off!"

Belphegor gasped in offense. "Hey, hey! That was one time!"

"I can still feel something in there…man, what a pain in the ass." Fran said with the faintest hint of annoyance in his flat tone as he unceremoniously shoved his finger back in his nose, still watching the two older assassins scream at each other. For such an elite squad, Fran thought, it was really kind of pathetic that the two of them were reduced to name-calling in a matter of minutes.

"PEDOPHILE!"

"LOSER!"

"ORPHAN!"

"BEL, YOU'RE AN ORPHAN TOO, YOU IDIOT!"

Fran watched the two shout names at each other for a few more seconds before sighing. The sound of someone clearing their throat caught the attention of the two bickering hitmen, and they both turned to look at Fran.

"Well, I can see that you two obviously have some personal issues to work out," Fran began as he once again plucked his finger from his nose, inspecting the suspicious-looking 'debris' for a second before flicking it away disinterestedly, "so um, I'll just come back later."

And with that, the mist illusionist casually wandered away, leaving the two assassins gaping. After a few seconds, the initial shock wore off, and Belphegor immediately ran out the door after him. Lussuria sighed in exhaustion as he sat back down on the prince's luxurious bed.

"Well, I hope that worked." He said to himself quietly.

* * *

><p>"Fran, wait!" Belphegor shouted as he ran after the illusionist, who was already almost completely down the hall. At the loud, familiar shout behind him, Fran turned around, looking more bored than Belphegor had ever seen him look in his whole life with the Varia.<p>

"Yeah?" Fran asked, voice flat.

"I…I can talk…now…" Belphegor managed to choke out between pants, "what…did…you have to…say?"

Fran regarded the panting hitman curiously for a moment before shrugging and popping open the folder once again. "I just wanted to let you know that the politician we're going to monitor later has a meeting at seven o'clock tonight. We're supposed to see if he votes for or against that new bill. You know, the one that will put known Mafiosos under heavier surveillance?"

Belphegor, who had finally regained his bearings, looked at the shorter man curiously. "That's why we're watching him?"

Fran gave him a deadpanned look. "Clearly, you've read the mission report, fallen prince-sempai."

Belphegor growled, several knives instinctively sliding down his sleeve and into his hand. "Oi, toad…" He said tightly. Fran just stared at him silently.

To his surprise, after a minute or so, the prince sighed in, either resignation or poorly-controlled rage, Fran was unsure, but the knives he was certain were destined to end up in the horrid-looking hat Belphegor always made him wear instead disappeared back up the prince's striped shirt.

"I meant to read it," Belphegor began, voice still oddly terse, "but I got distracted."

Fran blinked. "Um, well I guess it doesn't really matter then. It's not that complicated of an assignment, so it's probably okay that only one of us got around to reading it." He said offhandedly.

"Whatever. When are we leaving?" Bel snapped in response. If Fran noticed the sudden shift in the blonde's mood, he pretended not to notice. The mist guardian pulled his phone from his pocket.

"If we leave here around five, we should make it on time." He said. The prince nodded silently, before abruptly turning on his heel and storming back to his room. "Meet you down in the garage at five." He said over his shoulder before disappearing down the hall.

"What's his deal?" Fran said to himself once he was alone.

* * *

><p>At the sound of footsteps coming back down the hall, Lussuria sat up expectantly. Within seconds, a familiar head of blonde hair appeared in the doorway, and Belphegor strode into the room, stone-silent like the gargoyles that stood guard over the old cathedrals in the north.<p>

"Dare I ask?" Lussuria said cautiously. At the sound of the flamboyant man's voice, Belphegor looked up, his mouth set in a grim line of frustration.

"What happened?" The martial artist pressed. Belphegor sat on his bed and abruptly fell backwards, slinging an arm over his face.

"This is gonna be harder than I thought, Lussuria." He said dismally.

"Getting Fran to like you?"

"No. Not stabbing him when he pisses me off. I never realized how much of my stress I relieved by stabbing Fran until now." The prince groaned in dejection.

Lussuria rolled his eyes. Really, Belphegor was such a baby sometimes.

"But at least you're making progress. You didn't stab him. That's quite a leap for you, Bel-honey~!" Lussuria said happily, in an attempt to cheer the gloomy prince up. As expected, the only response he got was a twitch of blonde's lip.

"Come on, Bel!" The martial artist shouted as he shook the younger man by the leg. "You'll find a new person to vent on eventually…or…"

"Or…?"

Lussuria laughed to himself lasciviously."Or better yet, if you play your cards right, you'll have a _much_ more satisfying way of relieving your stress very soon."

Belphegor's arm suddenly slid down from his face, the prince sitting up slowly as Lussuria's words sunk in. After a minute, the prince's infamous Cheshire cat smile stretched across his face, and the equally infamous little laugh crept out from between his teeth.

Lussuria smiled. "That's better. Whenever you get discouraged, just think that it will be worth it in the end. Besides, I'm certain Fran is already curious about your sudden change in attitude. I bet he'll mention it later."

But it appeared that the prince hadn't heard a single word he just said. Belphegor was staring off into to the distance, an unabashedly lewd little grin on his face as he wandered the realm of his personal fantasies. Lussuria wasn't sure if he really wanted to know what kinds of 'stress-relief' the prince was thinking of at that moment.

Belphegor bit his bottom lip, a throaty chuckle escaping him. Lussuria cocked his head to the side curiously.

Well…maybe he was a _little_ curious.

But regardless, Lussuria still waved a hand in front of the prince's face. "Bel? Hello…?"

At that moment, Belphegor snapped out of his clearly less than innocent daydream. "What?" He snapped.

"Did you hear me?"

"No." Belphegor said bluntly. Lussuria sputtered in offense. "We-well you need to listen to me now! Knowing Fran, he is defintely going to be wondering why you didn't stab him! What are you going to tell him, hmm?"

Belphegor frowned. "…Oh…well shit…I don't really know." He said with a shrug. Lussuria smacked his forehead.

"What _should_ I say?" The prince asked suddenly, his voice so unexpectedly earnest that for a moment, Lussuria was sure he was talking to someone else.

"Ahh, _well_," He began awkwardly, "I think you should just be honest with him."

Belphegor blinked. "…So you want me to tell him that I want to have red-hot monkey sex with him?" The prince asked, voice oddly deadpanned.

Lussuria shrieked at the prince's blunt statement, fanning his heated face rapidly. "Good heavens, Belphegor! NOT _THAT_ HONEST!"

* * *

><p>Belphegor scowled as he leaned against the wall next to the door in the garage sometime later, his arms once again folded across his firm chest in mild irritation, which was quickly becoming a familiar state of emotion for the prince.<p>

Once again, Belphegor found himself completely on his own. He was beginning to wonder if Lussuria's advice was really any good at all.

"Just be nice to him, that's all," Belphegor mimicked Lussuria's voice nasally, "Jeez, Lussuria is so useless."

"I guess your butt massage wasn't all that great then, huh?" A voice quipped sarcastically from his left, and if the prince hadn't been so self-aware, he most certainly would've shrieked like a little girl. But as such, he was very self-aware, even while brooding, so instead he only graced the shorter assassin with a prize-worthy frown and a few choice words.

"Where the hell did you come from?" He snapped.

"Upstairs, genius." Fran retorted bluntly. "Now come on, we have to leave."

And with that, Fran walked past the sputtering prince, ignoring the three knives that slid down the older man's arm, only to then quickly disappear right back up his sleeve as the prince attempted to calm himself down. Belphegor took a deep breath and trailed after the illusionist, who was looking for his keys on the key rack. Belphegor quickly snatched a set off of the rack. "We'll take my ferrari." He said.

Fran gave him a blank look before promptly plucking the key out of his hand and putting it back on the rack.

"No way in hell, sempai." He said as he grabbed a random set of keys from the middle of the large board.

Belphegor growled. "What! Why not?"

Fran inspected the set of keys before shaking his head and putting them back on the rack. "No, those aren't the right ones…" He said to himself, completely ignoring the fuming prince next to him.

"Oi!"

At that, Fran's eyes slid casually in his direction. "No offense, sempai, but if you drive, we're going to end up in a ditch on the side of the road somewhere."

The prince sputtered indignantly. "Wha-well- I will have you know that the prince is an excellent driver!"

Fran nodded dismissively. "Mmhmm, and I'm sure you will excellently and spectacularly drive us right into a ditch as soon as we pull out onto the main road."

"No I won't! How fucking rude!"

"How fucking self-preservational is more accurate." Fran retorted as he finally found the keys he was looking for. "I'd let my eighty-eight year old grandmother, who has cataracts in both eyes, drive before I let _you_ drive me anywhere. I don't really feel like dying today."

And with that, the illusionist sauntered off further into the garage, a cranky and hissing Belphegor stomping after him.

"Oh yeah? And what about you? You drive like you have a moral obligation to ignore the speed limit! You drive just as shitty as me!" The prince snapped as the pair walked up to Fran's car and quickly got in.

"Excuse me," Fran reprimanded, "I'm not a_ shitty _driver, I just take calculated risks."

Belphegor promptly kicked open the glove compartment. As expected, a stack of speeding tickets tumbled out around his booted feet. The prince turned back to the younger man.

"Calculated risks, huh?" He said with an arrogant smile.

Fran stared at him silently, his hand, which was poised with the key inches in the ignition, frozen in mid-air. The two sat quietly.

"Touché." Fran said flatly after a minute, and Belphegor's grin widened. "But you're still not driving. Now put your seat-belt on. I don't want to get pulled over for your irresponsibility."

Belphegor looked at the younger man incredulously. "And speeding isn't irresponsible?"

Fran looked at him blankly before turning the car on. "I don't know what you're talking about." He said nonchalantly as he eased the car out of the garage and out onto the path to the main road. Belphegor couldn't help but laugh. Fran's face was so uncharacteristically focused as he drove onto the main road toward the highway, as if driving like a normal person required his utmost concentration.

Belphegor sighed in resignation. "Alright, alright. Speed then. I hate it when people drive five miles under the speed limit."

No sooner had he finished uttering those words when he felt the car immediately begin to move at the speeds Fran was infamous for. But Fran's face looked a bit brighter all of a sudden. It was as close to looking happy as Fran could ever get, Belphegor supposed, and with that comforting knowledge in mind, the prince settled back into the luxurious leather seat and made himself comfortable, chancing a glance over at the stoic mist guardian every so often.

And it was then that Belphegor noticed something odd. He turned his body slightly in Fran's direction.

"Hey Froggy," He began curiously. Fran looked over at him. "What?"

"How come you're not wearing your uniform?"

Instead of their usual Varia ensemble, which Belphegor was wearing, Fran was clad in civilian clothes. A dark blue hoodie and black jeans, with his usual uniform boots. Simple, and yet Belphegor found he couldn't take his eyes off of the younger man.

He dared to admit, in the privacy of his mind, that looking at Fran, sitting quietly in the slightly reclined seat of the sleek BMW that he loved so much, steering the car from one lane to the next with practiced ease with his right hand, his left casually resting in his lap, that the illusionist looked pretty… not just cute but, well, actually kind of …_hot_.

The younger man had an uncanny sort of elegance about him, despite his sharp-tongue and unfortunate tendency to stick his foot in his mouth. Belphegor sometimes wondered if that graceful aloofness was something characteristic of illusionists in general, because there were times, when Fran wasn't being a snarky little bastard, times like right at that moment,when the green-haired boy seemed eerily like Mammon.

When he was still around, Mammon had a habit of sitting out on his balcony at night, and staring out over the horizon with the most thoughtful look on his face, or at least, the part of his face that was visible. And now in these present days, there were times when Belphegor would stumble across Fran sitting out on the exact same balcony, in the exact same spot, with the same wistful, contemplative expression.

Come to think of it, Belphegor thought, it had been during one of those many times, out on that balcony, that Belphegor had entertained the idea that, _maybe_, there was a lot more to Fran than just sarcasm and indifference. It was easy to forget that Fran was an illusionist too, and by definition a complex-minded individual. Fran had more layers to him than there were trees in all of Italy, and with each month that passed with the new illusionist as a member of their team and of their household, Belphegor found himself more and more intrigued with him.

He just wondered when that intrigue turned into infatuation.

"Hey, Earth to the fake-prince. Please respond. Fake prince-sempaaaaai…" A familiar voice droned in his ear, effectively snapping the blonde out of his reverie.

"What is it?"

"Well, I was trying to answer your question, until you spaced out for no reason."

Under his bangs, Belphegor blinked rapidly. "…Question…? Oh, Oh yeah!"

Fran looked at him strangely before turning back to the street. "Well, yeah, like I was saying before, this is a surveillance mission, so we don't actually have to get out of the car or anything. I figured it'd be more comfortable to wear regular clothes."

"Hmm," the blonde next to him began idly, "I guess you're right about that, toad." And with that, Belphegor slid out of the thick uniform overcoat and tossed it in the backseat.

"And besides, according to you, I look fat in our uniform, so I decided to wear something more flattering to my obvious over-abundance of flesh."

At that, Belphegor blanched. So much for complex-minded and intriguing. _There_ was that wonderful sarcasm Fran was also known for.

"You're not gonna let that go, are you?"

"Not on your life."

"Fran…"

"Hmm?"

"You are an asshole. In every sense of the word."

"What can I say? It's an art. But at the same time…" The illusionist trailed off. Belphegor stared at him. "At the same time, what?"

"Well, to be honest, that was the nicest 'kind-of-a-compliment-but-not-really' anyone's ever given me. Actually…it's the _only_ one, but you know what I mean. So, um, thanks…I guess."

Belphegor felt his face heat up. Fran was staring at him so intently, he thought the skin was going to melt off of his face. He was also glad they were at a red light, because if they had been moving, they probably would have been dead right about then. Fran hadn't looked at the road in about twenty-something odd seconds.

"Um…you're welcome? But-but don't get used to it,"He added quickly, "I just liked the shirt you were wearing yesterday, that's all!" He shouted, his blush getting heavier and heavier.

"Sempai, your face is all red."

"Shut up! I'm not blushing!"

"I didn't say you were blushing, stupid. I _said_ your face was red."

"Yeah, well…it's hot in here."

"But the A/C is on full blast."

"Will you shut up?"

Fran turned back to the road as the light turned green. "Are you having problems controlling your post-menopausal hot-flashes, ma'am?" He quipped sardonically.

Once again, Belphegor found himself sputtering indignantly. It was irritating how easily Fran could get that kind of reaction out of him. He glared at the younger hitman with a tight smile.

"What. Did you. Just call me?"He snapped.

"Oh I'm sorry, did I offend you, _ma'am_?"

"Stop calling me that."

"Only if you stop bitching like a PMSing forty-five year old woman." Fran retorted.

"I'm not bitching!"

"Oh, you're _definitely_ bitching, sempai."

"I am now, because you're pissing me the hell off!"

"God, you're so cranky. And right after I thanked you for complimenting me, too. Are you hungry or something?"

"Now you're making me sound like a fucking four-year old!"

"Just for the record, _you_ said that, not me."

Belphegor slumped in his seat, his arms folded across his chest moodily. _Why do I like this douchebag again?_

"I'm putting the radio on, okay sempai?" Fran asked casually, if not a bit smugly, at realizing that Belphegor conceded the argument to him.

"Whatever." Belphegor snapped, staring out the passenger window petulantly.

"_~It's a nice day for a, White Wedding~" _Blared from the radio suddenly, and Belphegor turned slowly to stare at the younger man, who was singing along without a care in the world, bobbing his head to the music.

"Fran, _really?_"The prince asked incredulously. Fran, who was getting kind of into the song, Bel noticed with a snort, turned to look at him, still singing loudly and twitching his top lip like he was about to sneeze. Belphegor stared at the younger hitman, a large, lopsided smile creeping onto his face.

"What the hell are you doing, Fran?"

"I'm trying to do the thing Billy Idol does with his lip, remember? Am I doing it?" Fran asked, his face somehow maintaining its trademark blankness despite his 'valiant' efforts to snarl like the famed eighties icon.

Belphegor stared at him blankly.

"You look like you're having a fucking stroke." He said bluntly.

"Wow, very rude, sempai." Fran said, wagging his finger at the older man, who just rolled his eyes. Regardless, Fran kept singing and kind of snarling at the same time, his face getting more absurd as the song progressed. Finally, Belphegor sat up and changed the station.

"Fran, oh my God, stop doing that! It's freaking me out!" Belphegor shrieked.

"Oh come on, I like that song."

"Yeah, clearly."

"You don't like eighties music, sempai?"

"Of course I do. But I can't enjoy it as much when your sitting next to me and your face is fucking short-circuiting like a broken furby."

Fran frowned. "Aw, was it that bad?"

"Don't pity yourself! I'm the one who had to watch that horror show on your face! Could you be any dorkier?"

Fran slapped a hand over his heart. "Ow, my feelings. Sempai, you're crushing my soul with your hurtful words." He said in his usual deadpanned voice. Belphegor punched him in the arm and changed the station again. After that, the two lapsed into a comfortable silence for awhile, one of the two occasionally changing the station or turning the volume up.

The city soon came into view; several high-rise buildings obscured the fading sun, while others reflected its light off of their polished glass surfaces.

"Wow, the sunset looks so different here, doesn't it, sempai?" Fran said thoughtfully as he shut off the air conditioning and rolled the windows down. There was a pleasant breeze passing through the bustling city, and the two assassins preferred the cool, evening breeze to the artificial frost of the car's cooling system.

The sleek sports car came to a halt as the pair inevitably approached the city traffic. The air seemed to stagnate a bit once they came to a complete stop, so Fran turned the air back on, but on the lowest setting, so the slight coolness of the car's air mingled with the outside breeze. In the meantime, Fran leaned back in his seat, fiddling idly with the buttons for the sunroof as they waited for the light to turn green.

"I think we're almost there. I see the…the…you know, the government building. I forgot what it's called." Belphegor said with a casual shrug. Fran repeated the gesture idly.

"Looks like it, but it's all one-way streets here. It's gonna take a while to actually _get_ there."

And with that, the two settled down for a nice, relaxing, bumper-to-bumper ride in the city.

But despite the traffic inching along, Belphegor found himself settling further in to the seat of the car. The prince let his eyes drift closed as the car rolled forward. Something about the whole scenario made him feel completely at peace, with the wind rustling his hair and cooling his face, and the slow electronic music on the radio and Fran's dull, yet oddly relaxing voice singing along gradually lulling him to sleep.

Fran had mentioned once before that cruising was one of the most relaxing things ever, and as the car crept along the boulevard at a snail's pace, Bel decided that next time Fran went out driving, he'd be happy to tag along.

* * *

><p>Oh my God, this is now a three-shit. I mean shot. No, shit sounds better. So yeah, it's a three-shit. I'll try not to leave it sitting too long, because I'd like to have another completed series to be mildly happy about, you know?<p>

Anyway, this chapter was more about the specifics of Bel's interest in our little frogger. Hopefully it wasn't lacking in the humor department, but I had to get the love-ball rolling. As well as show why Bel labels Fran as a dork.

As a side note: Fran is _not_ emotionless, guys. And I really hate it when people say that, just because he's monotone and blunt. He can smile, and pout, and look scared, …have you all read the manga lately? So I just wanted to show Fran being a, well, a dork. And no, I don't think eighties music is dorky, because I do exactly what Fran was doing every single time I listen to 'White Wedding' too. I'm assuming most of you are familiar with that song, and if you're not…well, you should be. *Stern look*

Anyway, see ya when I see ya. Don't forget to review!


	3. Coming to Epiphanies with Froggies

A/N: Hey guys! Who wants to punch me in the face?

'Why do you want someone to punch you in the face, sushi?' You may be asking yourself. I'll tell you.

**This is now a four-shit. **That's why. UGGGHH HOW DO I KEEP DOING THIIIIIS *spirals into an abyss of negative emotions*

I'm certain many of you expected this anyway, so…

But whatever, a lot happens in this chapter, so naturally, it got pretty long. This chapter is more on Fran's side of things, and it's a bit more on the serious side, so hopefully you all enjoy it still. There's still humor, but yeah, gotta get this yaoi thing going so...yay serious times.

Oh, and in reference to last chapter: To the reviewer that asked what 'butter his muffin' means, buttering someone's muffin is a clever little euphemism for sex. Hope that helps. :D

So anyway, carry on.

Disclaimer: It's not mine. Lemme alone.

* * *

><p>Coming to Epiphanies with Froggies<p>

* * *

><p>Fran could count on one hand the number of times in his twenty short years of existence that he had ever felt even remotely embarrassed or uncomfortable about something. It was just a feeling he never quite understood how to process internally, the feeling of shame or embarrassment.<p>

He understood the psychological aspect of it; those types of emotions arose in a situation where someone's image, or the image they wanted to portray to the outside world, was drastically altered by an unexpected event or revealing of some unfortunate flaw in their character by another that could be perceived as socially awkward or unacceptable.

Like the time he had emptied an entire pyramid of pudding cups into his cart at the supermarket, right after three of the stock clerks had set it up.

Somewhere in his mind, Fran understood that he _probably_ would've looked a little less like a douchebag if he had had the decency to look guilty as he casually knocked two and a half hours worth of work into his shopping cart, or at least acknowledged the three separate glares of disbelief pinned to the back of his head as he walked away. But then again, a look of guilt would've no doubt lead the three disgruntled employees to conclude that he gave a damn that they had wasted two and a half hours of their mundane lives building that glorious tower of pudding cups.

Which Fran didn't, obviously. Never had, never will.

Fran couldn't understand why they weren't used to it already, especially since he had been frequenting their store ever since his induction into the Varia. But the stock clerks and management of the store were united in their secret vendetta against the 'Green-haired Menace', who blew through the dairy section like a category five hurricane every Saturday morning, leaving nothing in his wake but overturned shopping carts, crying babies, and an empty pudding rack. Fran figured that since they loathed even the very sight of him, there was clearly no longer any need for apologies on his behalf.

Besides, he had grown rather fond of their endearing little nickname for him. It had a nice ring to it.

But in the grand scheme of things, feeling embarrassment implied that he valued how others perceived him; that he cared about someone else's feelings and thoughts towards him. And if there was one thing Fran was exceptional at, it was _not_ caring about the feelings and thoughts of the other six billion people who cohabitated planet Earth with him.

In that respect, Fran took an almost sadistic pleasure in requesting the assistance of those _same_ three disgruntled employees with his heavy load of groceries. He knew they would've loved nothing more than to 'assist' him right into the path of oncoming traffic. Their resigned scowls and glares could mean nothing else, after all.

But he _also_ knew that murdering their customers was obviously against the supermarket's policies, and since he had just spent about four-hundred dollars in their store, thereby providing them with paychecks, they had to suck it up. Every week, Fran had to resist the urge to grin mockingly as he stood by and watched the trio load all of the pudding that _they_ just never seemed to have enough of for some reason into the back of _his_ car. He would look in his rear view mirror at them snarling curses and such at him before laughing quietly to himself in glorious triumph as he sped away, knowing that this same scenario would play out once again next week.

Oh well, he thought. It was their own faults for being so easily angered about something as trivial as him buying a shitload of pudding. It was quite an immature thing to hate someone about, to be perfectly honest.

Fran was simply incapable of being embarrassed or ashamed of anything he did. You can't make yourself care, and even if he were able to, he doubted he would even try.

That is, if it was a situation created by his own doing. That was one thing. Because then, he knew what to expect, and how to react accordingly. He was good at making _other_ people feel uncomfortable, embarrassed, angry, etc. And Fran had had many years to perfect his techniques.

But if there was something he understood how to do even less, it was how to process his feelings towards the unfortunate mishaps of those around him. Fran didn't get how exactly he could feel awkward on someone _else's_ behalf, but apparently, it was possible. Even for someone like him.

Though he never once found himself thinking, 'Wow, this is sort of creepy…' or something along those lines, he supposed that the involuntary reddening of his cheeks and the sudden lapse of all cognitive processes that one time he had gotten that…_interesting_ (for lack of a better word), two a.m. phone call from an extremely drunk (and extremely horny) M.M. inherently meant that his body had registered the situation as an 'awkward moment'.

And it was certainly very awkward. For Fran, that is.

Especially when she started to tell him, in impressively graphic detail for one so intoxicated_,_ about how she had just spent the past hour or so pleasuring herself, thinking of their beloved Mukuro-sama all the while. The call had lasted well into the four o'clock hour, until Fran finally -and thankfully- heard M.M.'s drunken snores on the other line, and hung up with a resigned, "Okay, it was nice talking to you too."

He remembered feeling remotely bothered as the pretty much one-sided conversation replayed over and over in his head, no matter how much he willed it to stop. He also found himself wishing for a mindswab, if only to convince himself that he wasn't the least bit turned on by her drunken confessions.

But mostly he just thought that since M.M. was clearly too drunk to be embarrassed for herself, he would simply have to be embarrassed by proxy in regards to this 'tender' little moment for pretty much the rest of his foreseeable existence.

…Or at least until the girl sobered up.

Sometimes he wondered if M.M. was aware that she had even made such a scandalous call; and to him, of all people, someone who would most certainly not hesitate to bring it up at the most inappropriate time.

Or at _any_ time, for that matter. Fran supposed that there wasn't really an 'appropriate' time to bring something like that up.

Luckily for her, she had been fairly civil to him as of late; 'civil' being a relative term, of course, which lead Fran to believe that she did, in fact, remember that phone call. As well as the mortifying fact that Fran was indeed a skilled illusionist who had an excellent memory, no sense of shame or hesitation, and a vindictive side that only a select few were even aware of.

As such, she made sure to be nice to him. Nice for M.M., anyway. She had not pelted him with a shoe recently, nor had she called him anything rude, regardless of how many blatant insults Fran launched at her. It was quite pleasant to be around Mukuro's posse without the impending threat of a stiletto heel becoming part of his anatomy.

Not that her sudden 180 in attitude was actually enough to _appease_ Fran.

It was just that in all honesty, he didn't want to be reminded of how, after he had hung up with her, he had run into the bathroom and promptly acquainted himself with a very realistic illusion of the red-head, in equally red lingerie, purring in his ear in their native French. She was a moody one, but that didn't change the fact that Fran rather liked how husky she sounded after…

Well…_you_ _know_...

When he thought about it that way, he supposed that _that_ would be the closest thing to him being embarrassed in anyway, because everytime the thought popped into his head, he found himself cursing his very existence and wanting to crawl into a hole and die more than he ever had before.

Which was never, up until then.

And so it was with a begrudgingly magnanimous sigh that Fran tucked that juicy bit of information away in his mental 'Blackmail against M.M.' folder. His karma was bad enough already. He didn't need a murderous glamazon out to get him, on top of everyone else who wanted his head on a platter. And he didn't like the feeling of wanting to die, either.

And yet now, in the present, amidst of all his inner-rationalizing, assessment of his semi-sociopathic personality and his associates' drunken habits and what not, Fran had to wonder if maybe he was just one of those people who the universe had it out for no matter what. The whole M.M. deal had been pretty high up there on his very short list of 'extremely uncomfortable situations Fran has been involved in where Fran has also felt uncomfortable', but his current situation was undoubtedly the new number one on that list.

And by the Gods was it painfully deserving of that spot.

And he wasn't even sure what part of it made the situation more awkward for him: The fact that it was Belphegor of all people who had knocked an unwitting M.M. down from her pedestal of shame, or that once the prince woke up, he may or may not remember whatever it was that he currently dreaming about.

"…_Oooh_…"

…Or maybe it was the fact that Belphegor was currently tongue-fucking the passenger door of his car while moaning.

"_Aaaah…oh God…"_

Loudly.

Fran's grip on the steering wheel tightened.

…Yeah…it was _probably_ that.

The illusionist supposed it was a good thing for both of them that the windows of his car had limousine tints on them. How ironic that the very (illegal) tints that Belphegor himself had condescendingly chided him about not two hours ago were now the very thing that prevented the people in the car the next lane over from seeing the prince's rather undignified fall from grace. Especially the two children playing in the backseat.

_Man,_ Fran thought, _if only those kids knew how close they were to years of painful and upsetting therapy._

He was pretty close to calling a shrink himself. Seeing his 'comrade' having a wet dream (as he concluded it to be) was certainly something Fran was sure he could've gone his entire life _without_ seeing, and he wasn't sure what exactly was going on in Belphegor's head at that moment, but it didn't look very sexy from where he was sitting. In fact, it looked downright disturbing. Especially the big glob of drool dribbling down Belphegor's chin and onto the front of his shirt.

"Good lord…" Fran muttered before turning away and continuing down the street, pointedly ignoring the prince's little mewls and moans.

Finally arriving at the Parliament Building, Fran casually made a left turn onto the one-way street, thanking their lucky stars when he noticed a large parking garage right across the street. He quickly pulled in and drove up to the fifth floor of the garage, which he guessed would be at about the same level as the meeting room.

After a few minutes, Fran finally found an open parking space, conveniently placed so that it was directly facing the parliament building across the street. From their vantage point, Fran not only had a clear view of everything and everyone in the meeting room, but he could also see a few limousines that were parked along the other side of the street down below, and Fran saw a couple of men in suits getting out of the back of one. He quickly pulled a picture of their surveillance target out of the manila folder he had brought along. Sure enough, he immediately recognized the shorter of the two as their target.

_Welp, that's one part of the mission completed._ He thought to himself in mild satisfaction, before looking over at his sleeping comrade…who was now sucking on the door like a nursing infant.

Fran scratched his cheek awkwardly. "Well isn't _that_ attractive." He said gloomily, before promptly turning to look out his own window at a group of people walking to their own car on the other side of the floor. They still had some time before the meeting actually started, and for that Fran was rather displeased, because it meant he had more time to decide whether or not to wake his sleeping partner, who was in all probability getting ready to make love to his car at any second.

Belphegor rolled over suddenly, muttering something that put even M.M.'s drunken slurs to shame before sighing sleepily and nestled against the seat. As if listening to him talk dirty to whoever he was dreaming about wasn't bad enough, the prince was now facing _him_ instead of the door. Which, Fran concluded quickly, was even more uncomfortable then Belphegor sucking face with his passenger door. Fran looked down at the prince's pants suspiciously, before sighing in relief.

In the very least, there was no tell-tale 'bulge' for Fran to stare down as he made his decision, and for that the illusionist was very grateful, for that probably would've been the one thing to make him abandon the mission and possibly the few gritty bits that remained of his sanity (not to mention his car and the sleeping prince inside of it), and run screaming down the street.

But as it was, it was nearing the seven o'clock hour, and Belphegor was getting a little loud again.

"Perhaps I should wake him up now." Fran said to himself in resignation. He turned to the prince.

"Hey, Bel-sempai, wake up now…" He cooed softly, poking the prince in the leg.

Naturally, Belphegor didn't wake up, instead batting the illusionist's hand away grumpily before settling back down with a sleepy smile. Fran pouted in mild irritation, before promptly jabbing his finger into the prince's exposed flank sharply.

"Fallen prince-sempaaaaaiiii… wake uuuuup… sempaaaaaiiii…" He droned as he poked the prince again and again, but goddamn was Belphegor the most stubborn person ever. The prince clenched his eyes shut tightly, refusing to wake up from his apparently very pleasant dream. He once again swatted Fran's hand away with a cranky groan.

The illusionist frowned. Well, if that was how Belphegor wanted to play it…

Fran fished around in the center console for a moment before pulling out a black sharpie, an evil glint in his otherwise deadpanned stare. He unhooked his seat-belt and leaned closer to the sleeping prince…

…and then promptly pulled back when he noticed Belphegor start to sit up.

"Fran…?" Belphegor said groggily, rubbing one of his eyes under his bangs. Fran waved casually, quickly recapping the sharpie.

"Rise'n'shine, sleeping beauty. We're here already."

"That was fast…" Belphegor murmured as he shifted to a seated position, now fully awake. The prince stretched with a loud yawn, nearly punching Fran in the face with a wayward fist. It would've collided too, if Fran hadn't had the sense to move beforehand.

"What time is it?" He asked sleepily. "My head hurts, and," Belphegor paused when he noticed the marker still clenched in Fran's hand, as well as the almost sheepish look on Fran's otherwise neutral face, "-Oi! What were you doing with that marker?" He snapped.

Fran leaned back in his seat nonchalantly. "Well, I _wasn't_ going to draw a penis on your cheek, if that's what you were thinking."He said flatly. Needless to say, Belphegor looked unconvinced. His blank face said more than enough, in Fran's opinion.

"Well then, I'm glad I woke up." He said, still eyeing the younger man suspiciously. Fran tossed the marker back into the center console. "I think you mean to say it's a good thing _I_ woke you up. Say, sempai?"

Belphegor made a noncommittal noise to show he was listening as he stretched again. On the prince's cue, Fran continued. "What the heck were you dreaming about anyway?"

Belphegor looked over at the illusionist. "Why?"

"Because you were moaning like a whore the whole time you were out. That's why." Fran said casually, his face deadpanned.

Belphegor, who had turned to look out his window in the time Fran was speaking, let out a strangled cough all of a sudden, his face going completely aflame. All of the…_racy_ images from his admittedly wonderful dream suddenly flitted through his mind like his life flashing before his eyes, and with each second and scene he recalled, the prince was that much closer to throwing himself out of the car and over the metal railing of the garage and –hopefully- in front of a moving bus.

_I did not just have a dream about Fran. In Fran's car. While Fran is sitting next to me!_ Belphegor screamed in his mind. _I can't believe this! No, no, no! _

Unaware of Belphegor's growing mortification, as he was also looking out his window and thus in the complete opposite direction of the now suicidal prince, Fran continued breezily, "Just when I thought you couldn't get any creepier, sempai, you manage to amaze me yet again. What were you doing, filming porn or something? Jeez."

"Was I that loud?" The prince nearly squeaked out. Fran, to his surprise, snorted into his open palm, which he had been resting his face on. "Oh yeah."

The already vibrant blush dusted across Belphegor's cheeks immediately spread up to his ears and down to his neck.

"Er…did I…say anything?" He asked bashfully. Fran fidgeted in his seat for a moment before settling back down. "You said some _things_…" He trailed off teasingly.

"Like?"

Fran shrugged, all nonchalance. "You know…things that you say when you're…doing it…"

"Like what!" Belphegor screeched. Fran turned back to him then, a ghost of a smile on his face. Almost as if he was enjoying this.

Which he was.

"Well, I'd rather not say, but _boy_, you sure were keen on them sticking their finger in your butt." Fran said puckishly as he adjusted his wayward bangs under the frog-hat.

Belphegor shoved his face into his hands. "Oh God…"

"Oh yeah! You said _that_ a few times too. Give or take a couple of 'oohs' and 'aahs'."

Belphegor promptly slumped down in his seat, groaning in embarrassment. "Can we just not talk about this anymore?" He begged.

"But why? I'm pretty curious about this dream of yours. You were **really** into it. You were, like, making out with the _door_ and everything…"

"FRAN!" Belphegor screamed,"Plea- wait the _door_?"

Fran pointed to the large wet spot next to the blonde. "Yes, the door. And just a head's up, if my car gets pregnant, you're paying for the baby."

Belphegor frowned, but it was more out of embarrassment than irritation. "Yeah whatever. Just drop it okay? Please."

After a second, Fran sighed. "Well, since you said _please_…" He said with a shrug. "But could you do me a favor?"

"What?"

Fran's lip twitched. "Would you mind wiping that fountain of drool off of my door please?"

Belphegor forced a smile. "You just couldn't resist, could you?"

If it wasn't for the fact that he was certain he was already in the deepest circles of Hell, cuffed to a cold stone wall with only his tears and the thought of Fran rubbing this very moment in his face for the rest of their lives (and _especially_ as soon as they got home) for company, Belphegor would've expressed genuine gratitude to his deadpanned partner for giving in so easily. But as it was, he could only manage an uncharacteristically timid 'thanks anyway' before curling his legs up to his chest, as he often did when he was feeling uncomfortable. Nervous habit, he supposed.

Fran eyed him quietly for a moment before deciding that the current situation would no longer provide any sort of entertainment for him and followed the prince's lead, also sliding down in his seat and getting comfortable. They had more important things to do right now, anyway.

Besides, it would definitely make for an interesting conversation on the way back home.

"Hand me the file." Belphegor said quietly, his cheeks still burning, though not as noticeably as before. Fran slid the thin folder into the prince's waiting hand, and Belphegor began thumbing through it slowly, skimming over the details. After a moment, his hidden eyes fell on the photograph.

"Is that him?" He asked.

Fran nodded. "Yeah, I saw him go in with someone else a few minutes ago. They should be getting started right about now, don't you think?"

Belphegor murmured a quiet 'probably' before setting the file down on the backseat and grabbing a small device and a pair of headphones.

"Well, let's get started then, shall we?"

* * *

><p>"Sempaaaaaiiii…"<p>

"Whaaaaat…"

"This is so boring…"

"Yeah, I know."

"It's just a bunch of ugly old people, talking about boring old people things…"

Belphegor clenched his teeth in irritation. "Yes Fran, I'm aware. It's not like I've been listening to the fuckers talking for the past hour or anything…"

"How much longer are we supposed to wait here?" Fran whined, "I think I'm gonna kill myself… God, I hate old people."

Belphegor turned to younger man. "Christ on a fucking dumpster, Fran. You are such a whiner."

The illusionist shrugged. "I can't help it. I'm really bored. What are they talking about now? I just saw them pass a black folder to our guy."

Belphegor pressed one of the headphones closer to his ear. After a few moments, the prince began nodding slowly. "Hmm… yeah, yeah it sounds like they're talking about mafia-related stuff now. That's probably the bill."

"So we just have to see if he raises his hand for it, right?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

Fran nodded to himself before undoing his seatbelt. Belphegor looked at him oddly.

"Where are you going?"

Fran shook his head as he -to Belphegor's utter horror- sat up and began crawling over to his side of the car.

"F-Fran! What the fuck are you doing!" Belphegor squeaked loudly, earning a strange look from the illusionist.

"Um…I'm just grabbing my binoculars out of the glove compartment…?" Fran said questioningly, looking at Belphegor as if it should've been obvious already.

The prince stuttered awkwardly. "Oh-oh, okay." He managed to choke out.

Dismissing his older partner's odd behavior, Fran shrugged before leaning a bit closer to reach for the glove compartment. Belphegor turned his head sharply to face out the window, trying to steady his racing heartbeat.

…His dream had started out just like this, afterall.

_Please don't get a boner. Please don't get a boner. Please don't get a boner. Please don't get a boner._ He prayed in his head, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. The area of the seat between his slightly spread legs dipped all of a sudden.

_OH GOD._ Belphegor whimpered mentally, suddenly feeling very faint. His breathing picked up unconsciously as the seat dipped a bit more under the added weight of Fran's hand and arm.

Luckily for him, Fran was much too preoccupied with digging around in his glove compartment to notice Belphegor's very obvious discomfort. Or his near hyperventilating, surprisingly. With his hand firmly placed on the seat (the _exact_ place not registering in Fran's mind) to balance himself, the illusionist fished around in the inconveniently spacious glove compartment for his binoculars.

"Man, where the hell are those things?" Fran mumbled to himself as he felt around blindly. After a few moments, the younger man gave a triumphant 'aha!' and pulled out a small pair of binoculars. As he shifted back to get into his seat, he lost his balance a little and fell against Belphegor slightly.

"Oh, sorry." He said nonchalantly. Belphegor growled in response.

"Just move." He snapped, although, if Fran had bothered to look, he would've immediately questioned the new, tomato-colored blush covering nearly all of Belphegor's face. It was growing more and more difficult to keep a hold of himself. Especially since it felt like Fran was purposely doddling around, though Belphegor knew that wasn't really the case. Regardless, the illusionist was nearly in his lap, and it was taking everything Belphegor had in him not to grab the younger man and pin him underneath him and ravage him.

_So close…_ Belphegor thought anxiously. Fran shifted once more, trying to reposition one of his legs underneath the steering wheel in order to slide back into the driver's seat. This momentarily brought him even closer to the prince, who let out a strangled noise at the new proximity. Even more so when Fran's hair brushed against his cheek.

_Man, he smells nice._ Belphegor thought as he unconsciously leaned forward, his nose nearly in Fran's hair, and inhaled deeply. He couldn't quite pin the scent, but it was a familiar one, and now a pleasant one as well, because it smelled like Fran.

"Did you just _sniff_ me?" The equally familiar drone rang out suddenly, cutting into the prince's blissful moment like Jack Nicholson broke through the door in that movie with the hotel when he was trying to kill his family. Belphegor wasn't sure why he thought of that specific movie at that moment, but he sure felt just like the woman with the large ears who was screaming in terror the whole time, deep down inside.

Having an erotic dream about someone while they're sitting next to you is one thing, but sniffing them and _then_ getting caught by them was on a whole new tier of embarrassing. Fran was looking at him strangely, a hand reflexively shooting up to cover his hair, as if he were protecting it.

"What the hell are you talking about!" Belphegor managed to sputter out, half-heartedly shoving the younger man back into his seat. Fran was still regarding him curiously.

"You just sniffed my hair."

Belphegor started for a moment, floundering to form a coherent sentence to explain himself. It was proving to be a difficult task, since Fran's blanker than normal stare was making him nearly wet his pants, let alone completely ruining his ability to put thoughts together.

"I-I did not!" Was the brilliant result of an entire fifteen and a quarter seconds of brainpower.

Fran nodded slowly. "Yeah, you _did_. I saw you do it. You leaned in and smelled me…like some kind of serial killer. Man, fake prince-sempai, do you have some sort of 'creep' quota you need to meet today or something? Because you're just getting progressively weirder as the days pass."

Despite the ever-present blush on his face, Belphegor folded his arms defiantly. "I didn't mean anything by it! I was just trying to figure out what scent that was because it was familiar to me!"He yelled petulantly."And what the fuck do you mean, 'I'm getting weirder'? I oughta slit your throat for saying that to me, you little bitch!"

Fran gave him a breezy shrug. "Whatever you say, sempai. But we should really pay attention to what's going on across the street."

"I can hear them just fine, and they haven't started voting yet. I can do two things at once, you know." Belphegor snapped irately. "What did you mean by that?" He demanded again, even though he knew exactly what Fran meant.

As if to confirm his thoughts, Fran began listing all of the odd occurrences between him and the eccentric prince that had taken place so far. "Well let's see," He began coolly, "Let's start with yesterday, when you complimented me out of nowhere, and then today in the hallway, you didn't stab me, even though it was really obvious that you wanted to. And let's not forget this morning, when you ran out of the dining room like some kind of escaped mental patient. I don't know, you've just been acting really weird lately, sempai. Are you getting sick or something?"

"You think I've been acting weird?" Belphegor repeated, his face suddenly blanking comically.

Fran looked almost aggrieved. "What the heck have I been sa- Oh hey look," The illusionist said suddenly, pointing across the street, "Looks like Chef Boyardee voted for the bill."

"Chef Boyardee?" Belphegor asked with a snort. Fran nodded as he tossed his binoculars in the backseat. "Yeah. He kinda looks like the guy on the can, doesn't he? A little bit?"

Underneath his hair, Belphegor rolled his eyes. "I dunno, Frog-face. I don't eat that shit."

"Neither do I, but I always see the cans in the store. He looks just like Chef Boyardee." Fran insisted.

Belphegor ripped the headphones off of his head and tossed them in the backseat. "Whatever, who cares. We got what we came for, now let's go."

Fran simply nodded with a mild 'Yeah, yeah' and switched the lights on. Within a few minutes, the pair was out of the garage and back on the road home. The streets were significantly less crowded at that hour, making their trip out of town much faster. Twenty minutes into their drive, they were back on the highway, though to his surprise, Fran wasn't taking full advantage of the open road like Belphegor was expecting him to.

In fact, Fran, for once, seemed to be the one who was distracted as he stared straight ahead with both hands on the wheel. His eyebrows were furrowed slightly as if he were deep in thought about something, not to mention he was also doing that thing with his lip that Belphegor found annoying cute for some reason.

"You know what? I think I figured it out." The illusionist blurted out suddenly, startling the prince out of his own thoughts.

"Huh?"

"Why you're being so nice all of a sudden, I mean. I think I understand now." Fran said knowingly, casting a sly, sideways glance at the prince.

Belphegor's face flushed hotly. "How'd you figure it out?"

Fran scratched at his chin. "Well, it was kind of obvious, now that I think about it. I mean, I kept intruding on you two, and then out of nowhere you started being nice to me. And not to mention earlier-"

"Whoa, whoa," Belphegor interjected loudly, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You and Lussu-nee-san's secret affair." Fran said innocuously, lip twitching into a cute little grin as he continued, completely unaware of the shock on Belphegor's face.

"Every time I saw you guys, you were always together. I kept intruding on your private moments, and I didn't even realize it until just now. I guess Lussu-nee-san was probably uncomfortable with me knowing your secret, so he figured I would keep it to myself if you started being nice to me."

The prince continued to sputter like a dying goldfish as he listened to Fran prattle on about his and Lussuria's 'secret relationship' that was apparently so obvious. "Fran…"

"I'll admit, it is kinda weird though. I mean, you and _Lussuria_ of all people. I knew you guys got along better than most but, wow. But then that leaves the question of why you were smelling me. I don't think Luss would be too cool with you just smelling other guys like that."

"Fran-"

"Hey, that was who you were dreaming about then, right?"

"Oi!-"

"Eh, that's kinda sweet. A little creepy, but sweet too, I guess. I bet he dreams about you too. Lussu-nee-san is kinda horny. You should have seen the way he was rubbing your butt earlier. It was like he was kneeding pizza dough or-"

"-Fran!" Belphegor snapped. "Stop. You've got it all wrong."

The illusionist turned to him with a frown. "What?"

"Listen. I am **not** in a relationship with Lussuria, okay? And I sure as hell wasn't dreaming about him either!"

"Really?"

"Yes. _Really_."

Fran turned back to the road dejectedly. "Oh. So who was it then?"

Belphegor crossed his arms in annoyance. "I'm not telling you."

"Aww come on, sempai, I promise I won't tell anyone."

"No."

"Can I guess?"

"No!"

Fran made an irritated sound. "You should tell me, as payment for drooling on my car. I had to watch you, you know."

Belphegor growled. "Okay Mammon Jr., Calm down. I said I would clean it, didn't I? But that's still not a good reason."

"Why not? I think it is."

"Because it's private, you twat!"

"I need to know. It's going to bother me until I find out."

Belphegor groaned into the palm of his hand as he pointedly stared out the window. The dark cabin of the car became eerily silent as the two stewed over their private thoughts, although Belphegor inherently understood that at that moment, Fran was going down his mental list of everyone they knew and systematically crossing off names until he had a plausible list.

And sure enough, as they turned onto the lengthy driveway of the Varia mansion some forty-five minutes later, Fran broke his pensive silence.

"It was the boss, wasn't it." It was more of a statement than a question. Belphegor slumped back in his seat.

"_No_, it's not boss."

Fran let out a quiet 'nuts!' before thinking again. "Is it…someone I know too?" He asked hopefully.

Belphegor shrugged blithely. "Maybe."

"Aha. The long-haired commander."

"No!"

"…Eww it's not Levi, is it?"

Belphegor choked. "F-fuck no it wasn't Levi! Are you trying to make me sick or something?"

Fran tapped his lips with a finger. "One of the maids? That new girl has been eyeing you recently."

Despite himself, Belphegor smirked arrogantly. "I know. I screwed _her_ a while ago. But no, it's not her, or any of the maids."

"What about-"

"-None of the butlers either!"

"Dammit." Fran cursed under his breath as he finally pulled up to the garage, still rattling off name after name. But that list quickly narrowed down to nil, and Fran found himself getting a wee bit frustrated.

"Sempai, I'm running out of names here…can you give me a hint or something?" Fran prodded. Belphegor gave him a dark look.

"No. Why the hell do you wanna know so badly anyway?" He barked crankily. Fran shrugged casually. "It's my inquisitive nature."

Belphegor sighed irritably. For some reason, Fran realized, the prince seemed to refuse to face him.

"Hmm…well, you said I might know them, but I've gone through everyone I know…and…I'm drawing a blank."

To his surprise, the prince smiled timidly to himself, staring down at his lap patiently as he waited for the garage door to lift in order for them to pull inside.

"You're lying, aren't you." Fran uttered suddenly, "It has to be someone in the group. Could it be Mammon? It's weird if Mammon was a baby, but I've seen him in his adult form too and well, I can't blame you for having kinky dreams about him like _that_."

Belphegor's face flushed. It seemed that this would become a common occurrence where Belphegor's apparently sensitive emotions were involved.

"It's not Mammon, you dumbass." Belphegor said, though it lacked a lot of the usual bite.

"Sempai… I can't think of anyone else…I mean, it's not like it's _me_ or anything, right? That'd be all sorts of bizarre, wouldn't it?" Fran said, a joking edge in his flat tone.

Never before then and anytime since had Fran ever been one of the participating members of such a tense, awkward silence. The now silent engine of the car seemed to only amplify the silence in the cabin of the car. It was the kind of silence that drove people nuts with paranoia and after a minute in, Fran swore the loud buzzing in his ears was going to drive him up the wall.

He turned to look at the prince. To his surprise, he found Belphegor looking back at him, and it seemed he'd been looking for a while. His lips were drawn in a grim, tight line that clashed oddly with the heavy flush of his cheeks and neck.

"Um…" The illusionist said quietly, if only to break the unnerving tension in the car. Belphegor looked like he wanted to say something; the prince opened his mouth every once in a while, only to seemingly rethink his decision and close it again.

Just when Fran was about to open the car door and make up some excuse –any excuse- to abscond to his room, the prince's familiar voice cut through the silence, albeit much more reserved than usual. "Do you think it's weird, Fran?"

Fran, for the first time in his life, found himself completely speechless. Belphegor was looking at him so intently as he fiddled with the hem of his shirt…he looked almost like a little boy confessing his love to the prettiest girl in school at the playground during recess. Bashful, and completely unsure of himself.

So unlike the usual fallen prince that Fran was sure he knew.

"I…" Fran began, unsure of how to proceed. But before he had a chance to say anything else, a large, clearly forced smile broke out on Belphegor's face.

"Ushishi~! I'm just kidding, froggie! Why the hell would I like you?" The prince chided with a loud, anxious-sounding guffaw. "I got you good, didn't I?" He continued hurriedly as he popped his door open, sliding out awkwardly.

"Well, I'm kinda tired, so I'm just gonna go to bed now. Bye bye~!" And with that, Belphegor was out the door and in the house, leaving Fran alone in the garage with only his thoughts for company.

"Yeah, you sure fooled me, sempai." Fran said to himself quietly, before pulling back out of the garage and driving off. Suddenly, he didn't really feel like being home. It was a nice night out; perfect for clearing his now jumbled thoughts.

It was painful, he realized with a frown. And uncomfortable. Seeing the prince acting like that. And Fran didn't really understand why it bothered him to see his reluctant partner-in-crime so obviously upset. He usually went out of his way to irritate him, so why did it matter now?

Fran may have been socially stinted, but he was by no means stupid. He knew how to read people; part of an illusionist's power came from understanding the finer intricacies of human nature and turning them against them. Belphegor had always been a ball of raw emotion when it came right down to it; it was just a matter of who he was around and the circumstance. Fran supposed he should've been somewhat honored that the prince was much more open with him than the others, but that was only because Fran knew how to worm his way under people's skin and into their minds: He simply poked and prodded at the prince until he cracked.

But what just transpired…what Belphegor had implied…

This was different than any other situation he had ever been in. He found himself speeding down the road, trying to vent his growing frustration vicariously through a rush of adrenaline.

He wondered if perhaps, maybe, this was what it was like to actually feel bad about something.

To think, he had actually managed to hurt Belphegor's feelings... and the one time he hadn't even _meant_ to, either.

* * *

><p>The next chapter will be the last one. I can say that in confidence, because I already have it planned out. So expect it within the next week or so. Also, for those of you who are into Legend of Korra (and I know that's a good portion of you ;D), I plan on writing a couple of fics for this rapidly budding fandom (not to mention a rapidly growing obsession for me sobbu) in the near future, so be on the look out!<p>

And with that, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. As always, leave me some kind words if you liked it. I'll take _not_ so kind words too, but just know that I won't like you as much lol

See ya when I see ya

-S*B


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